


What We Usually Do

by laliquey



Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: 5 Times, F/M, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 01:52:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laliquey/pseuds/laliquey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deposition era: Five times Mark suspects Eduardo's sleeping with Gretchen and the one time he finds out for sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Usually Do

 

** ONE **

 

He's nervous. Besides the expected stress of being deposed, it's weird seeing Eduardo again. It's hard to look at him directly, so Mark focuses on being irritated by all the extra people in the room. He didn't expect so many.

“I'm sorry, Gretchen?” the videographer says. “Would you take off your bracelet? That flat microphone's going to pick up noise when you set your wrist down.”

“I don't see why they record these,” Mark says to no one in particular.

“For impeachment,” Marilyn leans in to explain. “They can pull up an excerpt later if you ever contradict yourself.”

“I have no plans to do that.”

“It happens. People hate seeing themselves on tape, too. They'll say just about anything on the stand to avoid seeing clips, especially when the deposition's two years old and they can't remember what they said.”

“Huh.”

Gretchen pinches a little gold clip and a chain of heavy oval links falls to the table. She pushes it to the side, flips through her notes, and prepares to tear Mark a ragged new asshole. She can't quite do it, though. Mark gets off to a rough start but holds his own once he sees a familiarity in the structure of the questions - he recognizes if-then-else, ternary, all that shit. It's like programming language with Eduardo's name thrown in. No big deal. _I'm not afraid of you,_ he tells her with his eyes, because she should totally know that.

At the noon break, she can't quite get the bracelet back on by herself and Eduardo takes it with a soft murmur of help. He easily joins the ends and spins the clasp to rest against her pulse with fluidity that seems practiced. He looks like a husband who's done it before.

For a moment Mark thinks it means something, but it probably doesn't.

Eduardo's always been sort of graceful with his hands.

 

 

** TWO **

 

Gretchen's wearing _stockings._

Her skirt's modest enough, but there's a notch cut on one side and she's pushed back from the table with her legs crossed; Mark's eyes widen when he sees the black lace band halfway up her thigh. The lace is crowned by one of Eduardo's favorite things - a triangle of bare skin. Mark knows that Eduardo _loves_ pale stripes of skin that should be hidden and will _bite_ them if privacy allows.

“I'm just about ready,” Gretchen says, riffling through her papers.

Mark shifts in his chair for a better view. God, all her stuff probably matches, the bra, the panties...

He's gotten to see that in real life, like, never.

Eduardo's mouth curves into a slow smile upon noticing what's right by his knee, and he enjoys it a second before nudging her. They share a knowing glance and she adjusts.

When her eyes lock with Mark's during questioning, he stumbles over some of his answers and feels like a dumb, inexperienced kid.

 

 

** THREE **

 

Marilyn nudges Mark because he's nodded off. He writes her a note. “Why is today so boring”

“Laying foundation,” she writes back.

He isn't being deposed anymore so he can sort of relax, and he watches Eduardo closely. After starting the week stiff and nervous, Eduardo looks confident and handsome and no longer flinches at every objection. It's a surprise when he looks back for just a second too long, and this moment of contact catapults Mark into such good spirits he has this weird desire to _eat._

"I want to go to lunch today," he says, and Sy seems surprised but glad. Marilyn makes a joke about planetary alignment and the paralegal calls ahead to change their reservation to four.

At noon, everyone exits the building to a bitter combination of wind and sleet that feels like micro-slaps to the face. Eduardo tries to get Gretchen to take his coat and they spar for a minute. She eventually accepts his scarf.

This is exactly what happened years ago at the MIT Caltech football game, and no amount of schnapps-spiked cocoa could compensate for how underdressed Mark was.

“Take my coat,” Eduardo said.

“No.”

“Mark...fuck, it's like twenty degrees!”

“I'm fine.”

“At least take my scarf.”

Mark took it, but they left soon after to warm up in Eduardo's bed, where the sheets kept slipping and that rough wool blanket kept getting in the way.

Eduardo lost $200 on MIT that day.

Mark _almost_ lost his virginity. He was on his back with knees drawn up when he said, “Wardo.”

“Huh?”

“I wanna do what we usually do.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just wanna do what we usually do.”

“That's fine.” Eduardo moved down between Mark's legs, kissing his neck, his breastbone, and his stomach on the way down.

“Wardo.”

“You wanna change places?”

“No,” he said, and sat up a little. “I'm sorry. About changing my mind.”

“Don't be,” Eduardo said, nibbling the inside of his thigh. “I love you and it doesn't matter.” This was way, _way_ off from the utilitarian relief policy they'd agreed upon, but Mark was in the mood to let it slide.

He wore the scarf all winter and often referred to it as “jaunty” because it made Eduardo laugh.

He didn't take it to Palo Alto and has no idea where it is now.

*

Eduardo's new scarf is deep blue cashmere, and in the clot of black wool overcoats, Gretchen looks like a golden trophy wrapped in a ribbon. She's first prize. When Eduardo touches her elbow as they duck into a shared cab, Mark thinks he'd throw up if he weren't so empty.

He doesn't want lunch anymore. "I forgot something upstairs," he lies. "Go ahead without me." He heads back into the building and almost turns when Marilyn calls after him.

"Can we bring you anything back?"

He shakes his head no, but doesn't turn around because he doesn't want anyone to see his face.

 

 

** FOUR **

 

Mark _swears_ he saw Gretchen pat Eduardo's ass on their way into the elevator, and it's surprising how fast it translates into Hot Lava Stomach.

He always meant to figure out what in the hell the whole him/Eduardo thing was all about – the “friends with exceedingly generous benefits” thing, but he got so busy. Like, unfathomably busy.

When he first got to Palo Alto and missed him, he'd augment his usual girl porn by looking for pictures of men who looked like Eduardo. The thing is, though, _nobody_ looks like Eduardo, and Facebook was becoming way more enticing than porn anyway. Not picking him at the airport was a mistake, but it wasn't his fault. It was Facebook's fault.

Eduardo should have been able to forgive that.

Mark doubts Gretchen has 36-hour work streaks that wall her off from what the rest of the world considers important, and he can't think snarky thoughts about the age difference because recent media suggests that women her age can really tear it up in bed.

Eduardo must be loving that.

 

 

** FIVE **

 

He mentions his suspicions to Sy.

“I think the plaintiff and his counsel are having sex. Is that, like, a problem?”

“Well...not exactly.”

“But isn't it a conflict or whatever? Shouldn't he get a new lawyer?”

“It's irrelevant in the eyes of the law,” Sy says. “Though I certainly understand your concern. Lawyers in that a situation either get sloppy or work twice as hard. Knowing Gretchen, I'd put my money on the latter.”

“Guess you'll have to work ten times as hard,” Mark says, and shuts up because his voice has a dry edge that means it's about to crack.

It's reminiscent of the account freeze because he feels screwed over and utterly alone.

 

 

** * * * * * * **

 

Mark entertains himself thinking about an off-record settlement clause for a threesome.

Actually, just _talking_ to Eduardo sounds unbearably intimate.

He decides to try for that.

At the morning break he loiters by a rail that overlooks an odd, atrium-like waste of space full of pebbles and unhealthy tropical plants. It feels necessary and awesome to make unbroken, unafraid eye contact with Eduardo.

“Hey,” he says, when Eduardo's close enough.

“Hey,” is the answer, a little wary.

“How are you?”

“I'm good,” he says, even more suspicious.

“Good.”

“So, um, yeah.” They look wordlessly at the anemic plants until Mark says, “That's cool about you and Gretchen.”

Eduardo's not taken aback, in fact he seems kind of proud. “Yeah. She's great.” He relaxes his elbows on the rail and asks, “How'd you know?”

“I could just tell.”

“It's been a silver lining to all this bullshit, if nothing else.”

“Wow. Okay.” It's impossible to ignore that Eduardo smells _really_ good. He always has.

"What do you want, anyway?”

“To say hi, I guess.”

“Oh. Hi.”

“Don't you think it's been interesting to see the wheels of justice up close?”

“No, Mark, I don't. I've hated every minute of this.”

“Well whatever. I just thought we could maybe talk to each other like normal for a minute instead of all the posturing and legal shit.”

“It's way too late for that.”

He's right, but Mark knows that honesty sometimes works for him. “When you gave Gretchen your scarf the other day it reminded me of us at the MIT Caltech game.”

“Oh yeah. The day I lost two hundred dollars.”

“I guess that happened, too.”

It's quiet for so long Mark thinks he may have kicked out a toe-hold, and his pulse lurches when Eduardo slips an arm around him and bends in so close his breath warms his ear. “You know that thing Sy filed earlier this week? Defendant's Motion in Limine or whatever?”

“Vaguely.”

Eduardo presses close to his side. “I spread the pages out on the floor and fucked Gretchen on top of 'em last night.”

“Oh.”

“Then we had a bottle of Malbec and made dinner together.”

Mark's face is on fire. “That sounds nice.”

“It was. She's a really good cook.” Eduardo straightens up, calculates how bad Mark's hurt, and adds, “I think I'm gonna go hang out with her instead of you.”

“Fine.” Mark's upset and blinking way too hard. “But you should know it'll be like a movie set. Co-stars or whatever.”

“Excuse me?”

“You and Gretchen. You have nothing in common and you'll break up as soon as this is over.”

“That's actually the plan,” Eduardo says with a dry smile. “But that's _so nice_ of you to look out for me. Ever wish you'd done that at incorporation?”

Mark has no answer. In fact he can't even look up.

“Okay. Nice talking to you, Mark,” Eduardo says, and gives him a fraternal slap on the back as he walks away.

There's definitely not enough air in the hallway. Everyone's staring; Marilyn, the paralegals, the court reporter, _everyone_. Mark hauls ass back to the boardroom on legs that feel rubbery and unreliable and he's positive he's pitted out his shirt in the last thirty seconds.

He would pay _twice_ what Eduardo wants for a minute alone to collect himself, but the videographer's at the end of the table fooling with the equipment. “I know you're not the deponent, Mr. Zuckerberg, but would you mind sitting in that chair for a minute? There's something weird going on with my focus.”

“Mine too.”

“I'm sorry, what?”

“Nothing.” Mark sits where he's been asked to but won't look at the lens. Eduardo's notebook is close enough to write in if he wanted to.

 

_Nice tie. Your jaunty level's sky high today._

 

He can't write that. It sounds too smart-assed, even though it's true.

 

_33% + a 3 way - y/n?_

 

No. He doesn't really want the 3 way. He will also never give up 33%.

 

_Wardo. I miss you and I wanna do what we usually do. Or did, anyway._

 

No. Just...no.

 

He stares at his distorted reflection in the polished table and pushes his thoughts past fear and nerves, past the distant comfort of being loved and Eduardo's warm hands all that fucking money he doesn't even know how to spend.

He pushes his thoughts into the safe architecture of brackets and numbers.

It's what he usually does.


End file.
